Because Hope is a Dangerous Thing (It Will Set You Free)
by Maryam25
Summary: It's been four months since she last saw Oliver. Four long months. And that's when it happens. Based on the events of the mid-season finale. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

No copyright infringement intended. Thanks for reading.

**Because Hope is a Dangerous Thing (It Will Set You Free)**

_And the second thing?_

"I love you."

His lips remain in a straight line, but she sees the curve of a smile in his eyes – crinkling and bright.

He admits to it with pride – as if it were an unparalleled accomplishment.

He says it with such sincerity – a confession made in earnest – she thinks her oxygen intake may be compromised; has trouble evening out her breaths.

Says it like it's the most natural thing in the world. Like it's a secret to which only she isn't privy.

The spot on her forehead burns; the earlier press of his lips on her skin has set her aflame.

And now he's leaving – won't even be here to watch her burn.

It's something he has to do – this is his burden to bear. She knows this. And somewhere deep down, she understands. Really, she does. But it doesn't make it hurt any less.

He's been dealt a hand.

(A very crappy one at that.)

The deck is stacked – all odds against him.

And now it's Oliver's move.

She watches him go, her eyes on the back of his head, his shoulders, his legs. Watches his retreating form until he blends into the distance, leaving her alone in the deafening silence.

She's sees all this, but she doesn't see any of it.

Their recent conversation is still buzzing about in her head. She can feel his breath ghost over her ear, that deep voice of his repeating those three words – that strategic grouping of eight letters – over and over.

She goes cold from head to toe – every single hair standing on end. And then – just as quickly – she's burning up, on the edge of melting into oblivion.

_Chair, she needs to find a chair._

Her legs threaten to give way, her heart convulses in her chest.

She's beginning to feel lightheaded when the nausea hits; when she thinks that her stomach is lodged somewhere in her throat, trying to claw its way out.

Felicity blindly feels her way to the nearest flat surface, sliding her warm hands across the stainless steel and the chrome – the coolness of the metal a balm against her flushed skin. She takes a seat and regulates her breathing.

Deep inhales and even deeper exhales.

(She feels her stomach inch its way back down.)

There's a heaviness behind her eyes and a sudden fatigue that overpowers her completely.

She fights to keep them open.

It's a losing battle.

Her head meets the top of her desk, the chill of the metallic surface doing nothing to quench her flaming forehead.

'I love you'

She hears it here.

'I love you'

It slips through a crack there.

And then the most terrifying of realizations dawns on her.

Something becomes blatantly clear.

She never said it back – never let him in on her most cherished secret, her dearest truth.

That his feelings are reciprocated – exponentially so.

That her thoughts start and end with him – _revolve_ around him.

That from the time he leaves the foundry for patrol every night, until the minute he makes his way back down its steps, she is beside herself with fear and worry – praying that the connection doesn't sever.

That she loves him – is _in love_ with him.

Unconditionally.

Undeniably.

Somewhere amidst these tumultuous thoughts and her emotional turmoil, everything fades to black.

That's how John finds her two hours later.

She's not sure which one of them looks worse.

**-/-**

It's been three weeks.

And not a single word.

She teeters on the verge of insanity.

Honestly though, she might already be there.

For all the things she's hearing and the things she thinks she sees.

She doesn't tell anyone.

Not John.

Not Roy.

Not even Lyla, when she gently prods.

She needs to be strong for team Arrow.

But her head isn't in the game. And there isn't room for error.

She's afraid that it will end up costing them – John, Roy, Starling.

_She_ doesn't have anything to lose.

Not any more.

**-/-**

Three weeks turns into eight and the effects are painfully obvious.

Roy is back to his closed-off self, all that progress lost to the wind. He makes minimal small talk and once again reverts to one word responses.

The new DJ at Verdant isn't helping the situation either.

Sometimes Felicity spends the night with him in the foundry.

They sit in silence mostly; rarely is there a verbal exchange.

Once in a while, Roy will put a hand on her shoulder and she will get lost in the depth of his eyes, the hurt and the pain that are present there. Because he's lost a friend too. A mentor. A brother.

She's happy that John has Lyla and baby Sara – loved ones to whom he can go home; a fiancé that loves him and a daughter who is the apple of her daddy's eye.

Where Digg used to be able to smile with just his eyes, he now only seems weary and incomplete.

**-/-**

At the end of week twelve, Digg and Lyla get married.

It was Felicity who finally let them have it:

"Life's too short to waste time and uselessly delay.

To not be with the one you love; to push them away.

(Case in point, she doesn't say).

It's what _he_ would have wanted for you two."

It all happens quickly.

The ceremony takes place at city hall.

There are five people in attendance, apart from the Justice of the Peace.

The bride and groom – a tasteful pair.

A young man with woeful eyes.

A melancholy blonde in a simple fuchsia-coloured dress.

And in her arms, a gurgling infant in a canary yellow dress.

They are surrounded by an emptiness, which like a dark cloud, looms over them, waiting to pour.

But, they do their best to smile and occasionally laugh because it's supposed to be a happy day.

(And it _is)_

Albeit bittersweet.

**-/-**

With much difficulty, Roy and Felicity convince the new couple to get away for the weekend – _sans_ baby and worries of evening patrols.

Digg envelopes Felicity in a tight hug and just holds her. When they part, he watches a tear escape from under her glasses and tries to reign in the one threatening to slip down his cheek.

Lyla brushes a few stray blonde strands from her face before pulling her into a warm embrace. And just as she's about to leave, she secures her bouquet in Felicity's hand, making sure to wrap the younger woman's fingers around it. There is a look in her eyes, one of hope and reassurance.

'Stranger things have happened...'

Lyla's words from an earlier conversation echo around her.

**-/-**

Barry visits her twice.

She appreciates the gesture (really, she does, and she adores him for it), but his jokes no longer seem too funny and his warm smile less comforting. He stays a day or two each time, bringing case files to keep her occupied.

And each time, he reminds her that he's only a _flash_ away.

Her lips turn up slightly as she nods her head.

_She knows._

**-/-**

It's been four months since she last saw Oliver. Four long months of loss and despair.

And that's when it happens:

A satellite somewhere picks up a signal.

Within seconds it alerts her phone.

And it's all that she needs.

To water that seedling of hope buried deep inside her, giving it occasion to sprout.

For the first time in months, Felicity Smoak _actually_ smiles – the corners of her lips turned up, just about reaching her eyes.

Hope, is a dangerous thing.

Fin.

_TBC…umm…possibly?_


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note:

So I initially was just going to have this be a two-part piece. Boy, did things get away from me; my fingers couldn't keep up with my brain. This part is much longer than was originally planned. It's just something to bridge the gap between the first part and the third and _final _part of the story, which will be the reunion. Be gentle with me.

**Because Hope is a Dangerous Thing (It Will Set You Free)**

**Part 2**

Oliver walks out of the foundry on a Wednesday.

He walks away from the woman who is at the centre of his everything – with every intention of coming back.

Walks away, leaving her wrapped up in the blanket of his promises and his words.

_I love you_.

_I will beat him _– _this time._

He stumbles back in (to the foundry) on a Tuesday evening, seven months later.

Felicity comes to the realization that she just may be past the point of no return when she _thinks _she sees him, leaning against the banister.

She blinks – makes sure to hold her eyes closed for a good fifteen seconds.

When she opens them, he's still there.

As much as she thought she was okay with accepting her impending insanity, now that she's standing on the welcome mat at the foot of the door that says CRAZY, she reckons that she _really_ isn't.

Then he speaks.

Very carefully whispers her name…

**-/-**

*FOUR MONTHS EARLIER*

It turns out to be a false alarm. The signal, the satellites, all of it.

They don't amount to anything.

They're being picked up one minute and then go dead the next.

Never to surface again.

That little seedling – the one that decided to sprout little roots that ramified throughout her – she pushes it down, quashes the feeling altogether. For an instant, she becomes her worst possible self.

She almost bites John's head off, despite her having absolutely no reason to.

As a result, Roy walks on eggshells for days.

(So much for the progress in their relationship.)

Sadly, the release does make her feel slightly better.

In response, John – ever the gentleman; always the friend – simply crouches down beside her, arranging his long limbs and takes a seat on the cool ground. He puts his arm around her shoulders, bringing their heads together, the weight of his arm comforting, soothing even. It tethers her, points her true North.

Lately she's been a ship sailing aimlessly in tempestuous seas, lost and wrecked.

She doesn't know when she started crying. But she is.

Her tears and heavy breaths fog up her glasses, so she takes them off; tries to discreetly wipe at the treacherous stream that smears her cheeks.

She turns her head inwardly, and hides her face in John's shirt, which definitely won't come out unscathed.

"I...I thought it was going to work. I th-"

She stops and lets out an exasperated sigh, pushing away some of the unwanted weight.

"I thought I could bring him home, John."

Diggle's hold on her tightens in reassurance.

"I know."

Out of the corner of his left eye, drops a tear, streaking down his face, losing itself in his shirt.

"We don't even know...

I mean he would have found his way back if...he would have figured out _some _way to let us know if..."

She doesn't need to finish her sentence, just lets her words hang heavily between them.

(She doesn't want to finish it either. If she says the words out loud, it all becomes real; there's no disputing it then. And she can't face that kind of reality just yet.)

At that moment, an identical thought runs through both of their minds.

_What do they tell Thea?_

Somewhere else, Roy ponders the same thing.

**-/-**

Baby Sara stumbles into her first steps.

Uncle Oliver isn't there.

She says her first word.

(John insists that it's papa, but anyone with half decent hearing would beg to differ. It sounds more like Sara's saying she wants to go to the bathroom. Number _two_.

No one has the heart to tell him otherwise. Because it's these small moments that remain.

They're _all_ that remain).

Oliver still isn't there.

**-/-**

She tells Roy they're going out one night.

"No ifs, ands or buts."

He's walking around, moping like a sad puppy, all broody and somber. Thea's out of town for the next few days.

"Iunno, some girls' weekend, whatever that means."

He says it like it's the most nonsensical thing in the world.

Ray helps get her on the guest list for the city's hottest new club. It just so _happens_ that it's the grand opening.

(She _may _have let him in on Roy's predicament).

He says he's glad to be of assistance.

"I'm happy to hook a brother up."

He winks. And then flashes her his hundred-watt smile.

Felicity reciprocates the gesture. On the inside, where butterfly wings once flapped, she no longer feels anything. Her and Ray are as platonic as they come.

Good friends, nonetheless. All awkwardness lost to the past.

Before she leaves the office on Friday, he comes in with two garment bags.

She goes to protest.

He immediately makes a move to stop her and raises his index finger, "ah ah."

"First of all, they don't let just anyone in," he explains not unkindly.

"You'll see what I mean for yourselves."

Convinced that she seems to be temporarily pacified, he drops his hand.

"And second, there is a very specific dress code for tonight's opening. Sadly, no masks, but I'm sure you guys will have a good time."

Wondering what she's gotten them into, she thanks him and he gives her shoulder a slight squeeze.

"What good is any of this," he gestures to the walls of glass around them, "if I can't help out a friend?"

She doesn't miss the tone of despondence in his voice.

**-/-**

Roy comes down the steps at around 8:30. She's just beginning to do her make-up.

She pushes him into the bathroom, throws a towel at him and orders, "Shower, now. Please."

The poor guy doesn't put up a fight; knows his attempts won't be fruitful.

It definitely takes a lot more effort to persuade him into the Armani that is revealed from under the covers of garment bag number one.

(She's not past guilting him into it.)

It all comes together – what Ray had said earlier – when she unzips the second bag.

Roy's suit is black, but his shirt and tie are burgundy.

(Though he forgoes the tie altogether.

"You got me in the suit and shirt, the tie is where I draw the line. Besides, I thought it was against the rules to wear red on red."

"_Burgundy _Roy, bur-gun-dy."

All she gets from him is an eye roll.

She'll take what she can get. You can't have your cake and eat it too.)

Felicity's dress is the deepest shade of oxblood you can imagine and it's absolutely stunning.

In the end, they're ready to go and frankly, they "look good."

Roy's words.

You'll hear no objections from her though.

She snaps a quick photo and texts it to Diggle.

**-/-**

It seems that anyone who is anyone on Starling city's list of one-percenters is in attendance for Burgundy's opening night.

The bouncer doesn't spare them a second glance when Felicity gives him her name, just nods and jerks his thumb in the direction of the door.

"We're here to have a drink, relax. Be anyone but ourselves," she instructs.

She gives Roy a small smile, looking at him as she speaks. She wants to make sure that he is clear on the purpose of their outing – watches as some of the tension in his posture dissipates, and his jaw loosens.

She can't help but take him in. Nodding approvingly, she doles out, "Harper, you clean up good."

He throws an arm over her shoulder, "in that case Blondie, let's do this. And if this is on your friend's tab, I'm definitely not having just one drink."

They make their way through the dimly lit dance floor, pushing through the throngs of seemingly inebriated elite. Roy lets her lead the way; she pulls him along, his hand tightly held in hers.

**-/-**

In retrospect, their night out isn't a _complete_ failure. For the most part it goes relatively smoothly.

They indulge in some very expensive libations. (Neither of them is _drunk_ but they're drunk enough.) And they add their two cents here and there to random conversations about the "awesome" DJ and the incredible turnout.

They even take a turn at the whole dance thing. Roy surprises her with his move. Who would have thought?

It's only when they're about to leave – Roy makes a quick trip to the men's room before they head out – that she almost breaks someone's nose.

_Almost_ – she doesn't want to make a scene.

So instead, she tosses what's left of her drink in his face.

(In her defense, it would have been a waste throwing red wine on his _red _shirt. Go big or go home.)

She thinks that her politely declining – and very assertively so – his offer to dance would have gotten the message across clearly.

_Not interested_.

Clearly not. With him deciding to utterly and completely invade her personal space.

She doesn't explain the details of her altercation to Roy. Why ruin a nice evening?

She waits for him by the door.

**-/-**

There's a slight chill in the air, but they brave it out and walk back to the foundry. They promenade in silence mostly, with the odd bit of reminiscing about their evening and accompanying laughter.

However, when their destination comes into view, the lightness in the air slowly slips away, leaving it heavy and burdensome.

She calls John once they're inside, tells him to kiss Sara for her too.

He had insisted on "a call and NOT a text."

By the time she's done brushing her teeth and makes her way to the cot, Roy is fast asleep. So she lies down quietly, willing sleep to come.

That night, Felicity has a terrible nightmare. Terrible because it feels _so real_.

_To be continued…last part coming soon!_

_Thanks so much for reading._


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